Wandering
by ThatBigBlueBox
Summary: A strange man, a drunken night, a familiar Time-Space ship. When Donna Noble was traveling the world, she didn't expect to run into him. Or meet him again.


Every time Donna Noble tried to reach for the stars, she seemed to end up tripping over nothing and falling flat on her face.

It had been five months since her encounter with the mysterious madman who kidnapped her from her wedding. Well, he hadn't _actually_ kidnapped her. And to be fair, he'd saved her from signing a piece of paper with a man that was only marrying her to feed some weird sense of self importance. Ended up all that self importance was just fed to some giant spider.

Donna gave a huff at that memory, that was accompanied with the familiar emotion that always confused her. It was some strange combination of anger at the betrayal and grief. She usually tried to ward off that grief, but she couldn't help it. This was a man she had spent six months with- six months that _she_ thought were wonderful. It was hard to let that go, as much as she hated herself for it.

The Doctor would probably give her some garbage like it was part of being human. She'd gathered that much of him. He had a patronizing side. She supposed he had some sort of superiority complex, which wasn't so much an alien thing as it was a thing found in most human males.

But he had inspired her to travel the world. The second that mad blue police box had wheezed away, she regretted her decision of saying no. Gazing up at the stars every night since then, she wondered if it wouldn't have been better if she had grabbed his hand and her suitcase (rather, several suitcases) and left behind this repetitive everyday life. Every day since, she felt keenly the insignificance and the mundane that permeated her nine-to-five. She got up, she ate, she worked, she came home, she did it all again. It all just felt so trivial. So unimportant. And every day that passed, she felt that that adjective applied very much to her.

Eventually, she travelled to Egypt. Of course, it was all 'don't drink the water' and 'stay with the tour group,' certainly none of the adventurous life the Doctor had promised. And she went back home after a week, and the wheel began turning again. Her mother's philosophy was to quit trying to change the wheel and do what everyone else was doing, but Donna just couldn't.

Hence, this trip. She had managed to book cheap flight to Poland for the holiday- no tour guide, no tourist trap. She had always wanted to visit some of the places her grandfather helped to free when he fought in World War II, and Auschwitz seemed the perfect place to start. It had been a sobering experience- too sobering for her liking, Donna thought. She had returned to her hotel shaken and slightly nauseous, almost ashamed that she couldn't handle the bit of history she was exposing herself to.

A few hours after she returned, Donna had grown sick of the drab beige of her hotel room, and she made her way to the nearest pub, still very much distracted. She needed to take her mind off things. Going out for a drink seemed like such a cliche way to handle it- she didn't usually drown her miseries in liquor- but she was tired and out of touch with a life that she felt so insignificant in. Here she was, trying to get away from the beigeness of her life with something that actually mattered. How was her temping making any difference? Her grandfather was probably ashamed of her.

So it was here, on her fifth beer, that she sat, despising the taste it left in her mouth and the fog it left in her head. A man took the barstool next to her on the right, and she groaned a little too loudly as she caught a glimpse of leather in her peripheral.

"Not interested, mate," she muttered, taking another lengthy swig of her beer. "Nein- nein danke."

"Good, 'cos neither am I," the man replied bluntly in a familiar accent. Different from hers- what was it, Northern?- but English all the same. She looked up at him, studying him closely.

"You're from Britain," she stated. He didn't look at her, but she saw his face drop considerably, his eyes lowering with an expression of such grief that it gave her pause from her own sorrows. "You alright, mate?"

He didn't respond to her, only barking rather rudely to the bartender in perfect German that he wanted a beer. The bartender shot him a dirty look, but handed him the drink without objection. The stranger- a sharp featured man with blue eyes dulled by the low light of the pub- took a long drink, grimacing as he did so.

"This stuff," he said after a few moments, causing Donna to look up again. "won't do anything for me."

"Not a lightweight, then?" Donna tried to joke, but it fell flat. She tried again. "Well, fits the stereotype, I suppose. You being a Northerner and all."

He turned to her for a moment, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion that cut through the intenseness of his previous expressions. Donna felt extremely grateful for that.

"Northern… I sound Northern?" he asked, and in that gaze she could see just how piercing his eyes were. "Well… makes a change, I suppose."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Donna asked, her head feeling full of cotton. "How d'you not know what you sound like?"

He turned away again, shaking his head as he took another silent sip of his drink. Donna sighed, turning to her own.

"Alright, then," her voice dropped to a mutter then. "Whatever you like."

Minutes passed, and alcohol was consumed, before Donna spoke again. There was just something about this man. Not in a sexual way, or anything, her muddled brain forcefully defended herself, but it was something familiar about him. Something that made her want to slap him and hug him tight all at the same time.

It was a strange sensation, to say the least.

"What're you doing here, anyways? If you're not just here for the… alcohol."

She felt the man tense up beside her when she voiced her question. He didn't reply immediately, so she pressed on.

"You lookin' for someone? Not me, obviously, that'd be… that'd be weird, but-"

"You're not just here for the alcohol," the stranger next to her said, a fact.

"Is anyone?" Donna shot back, her words slurring slightly. "None of your… business."

"Then I'm not yours, either," the man fired back, entirely alert. His eyes lowered again to the drink before him. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know why I'm here. Why…"

Donna sulked for a moment, before draining the rest of her beer and attempting to stand.

"Well, if you ain't gonna be… half decent company, I might as well just…" She nearly fell over, only saved from knocking her head on the edge of the bar if she hadn't caught onto the stranger's shoulder at the last second. Instead of being a solid foundation, however, he flinched away violently like he'd been stung, and the corner of the bar wasn't lucky enough this time to avoid Donna Noble's head. If she had been able to see properly, then she would have seen the haunted look in his eyes, like he was stuck in some horrific, distant memory. He snapped out of it almost immediately, however, and he crouched down to help the woman. He grimaced when he noticed the blood seeping quietly from her forehead.

"Come on-" he paused when he realized he didn't know her name. "-er, I can get you patched up. As an apology. Nothing else. Can you stand?"

"Mmhmm," Donna mumbled, stunned from the blow. She managed to get back to her feet. "Don't remember… hotel… should've gotten… travel insurance…"

"That's alright," the stranger said. "Free of charge."

The walk was short, only a couple minutes and several strange looks from passerby, but finally, the man stopped.

"We're here. Come on."

Donna looked up, and she thought she might have been hallucinating from the definite concussion she had.

Before her stood a blue box she thought she'd never see again.

"It's the…" she mumbled, unable to form coherent words.

"Nevermind what it is. I know it sounds odd, but this is my… laboratory. Medical wing included." The stranger took out a key and inserted it into the lock. It swung open easily. "And yes, it's bigger on the inside. New age science. Come along."

It was an even shorter walk to a white room, where he managed to help her get up onto a hospital bed that was softer than it looked. She laid down and stared up at the blurry ceiling, before remembering where she was. The… blue box. The Doctor's blue box.

"No… probin,' Spaceman," she murmured in slight protest, already half asleep, before darkness managed to overcome her.

When Donna Noble woke up, she felt as though no drop of alcohol had even touched her body. She was… actually quite hungry. That would be a first for a hangover. She squinted for a moment, before her previous moments of consciousness came rushing back to her in a flood.

The TARDIS. She had seen the TARDIS.

Surely it had to have been a dream. No way on Earth could there be that big of a coincidence.

But then… where was she?

It was a white room, almost like a hospital, only without the smell of sterility. Donna got to her feet, and when the bare pads of her feet touched the floor, she recalled the stranger. She felt sick. Had she really allowed some creep man to drag her away to… to wherever she was?

Donna walked to the door, and when she looked down, she felt a twinge of relief that she was still in her clothes, which reeked of alcohol. At least nothing… awful seemed to have happened.

Opening the door, she faced a dark corridor. This… this was definitely not a hospital.

Her feet touched the cool metal grating that made up the floor, and she began to walk. And walk. And walk.

Finally however, after a slightly unnerving ten minutes of windowless corridor, she approached a door, and she let out a small sigh of relief. Finally, she was getting _somewhere_.

When she opened this door, however, her mouth dropped open in shock.

Before her was the TARDIS control room, precisely as she had left it (if not a tad darker).

She recognized the stranger from the bar sitting in the jumpseat near the console, his head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable sleep. Immediately, a surge of anger flooded through the ginger, and she rushed up to him, seizing the neck of his jacket.

He reacted at once, his eyes flying open in a panic. He ripped away from her weak grip, his breath increasing in rate as he flew around to face her, his eyes wild as though she had caught him in the midst of some nightmare. She recoiled, but held firm, placing her hands on her hips.

"Now listen here, bar boy, you're going to tell me why the hell you're in here and what you've done with-"

Her brashness seemed to catch him off guard- more so than he already was- and he cut her off.

"Why _I'm_ in here?" he asked incredulously, his voice rising several octaves. "You're in here because of me! This is _my_ TARDIS!"

"Look, you're gonna have to do better than that, big ears," she snapped, taking a step forward. "You're gonna tell me what you've done with the man who owns this ship and why!"

"I own this ship!" he responded in a tone to match Donna's. "And what's so wrong with my ears?"

"You're well daft if you think I'm a moron!" the ginger woman bit back. "You think I'm stupid? You look nothing like him!"

The man paused at that, his retort catching in his throat, and he let it out with a sigh. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, his stance relaxing ever so slightly.

"Ah. I see," he said in mild irritation. "I understand."

"What the hell do you _understand?_ " she asked, refusing to match his relaxation.

"What's the name of the owner of this ship? What's he look like?"

"So you're _not_ the owner!" Donna exclaimed triumphantly, but the leather-clad man gave a frustrated huff.

"Just- just answer the question."

"His name's the Doctor," she said, her nostrils flaring. "He wore a brown suit and- had hair that stuck up, and he was a beanpole. And _you_ look nothing like him!"

"Yeah, about that…" the man muttered, running a hand through his cropped hair like he was expecting it to be longer. "That's me. Er- I'm him. The same man."

"You're not the Doctor!" Donna exclaimed, and the effect of her words was instantaneous. His face whitened and his frown deepened, and Donna could have sworn she saw the slightest tremble of his fingertips.

"I- I am," the man repeated, seemingly hesitant about the fact. "Miss- er, what's your name?"

Donna paused. "Donna. Donna Noble."

"Donna." His words were spoken with a tired voice. "The- er, my people, we have- had this trick, where we can change our faces, if we get to be close to death. I don't recognize your description, meaning you're from my future. So soon after…" He shook his head, swallowing. "...after the war, the Timelines can't sustain such a paradox. You have to go home, right now. And I have memories to erase."

"You're not wiping my memories, Spaceman!" Donna bit, stepping back, before she realized what she'd called him. Pausing, she studied his face. His eyes. They were blue, but they held the same deep emotion of the thin man that had saved the Earth from the Racnoss. "You're really him?"

"Yes," he said wearily. "And I was talking about my memories, not yours. It's… I would never wipe someone else's memories without permission. It's an invasion of privacy. Abused by too many." His eyes grew distant in memory, before they cleared again, focusing. "Now we really do have to get you home-"

"You're from the past?" she inquired. "Is… is Rose along?"

"Rose?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Rose Tyler," she repeated, staring at him with suspicion again. "If you are him, how do you not know Rose Tyler? He- you were crazy about her-"

"The girl from the Powell Estate?" he interrupted her. "I invited her. She didn't want to come. Case closed. Why… how do you know her?"

"Well, you talked about her. You…" Donna stopped herself before revealing the rest of the doomed sentence: you lost her. "...you travelled with her. She did come, you told me."

"Well, clearly she didn't," he bit back, folding his arms over his chest. "And clearly, future me is bonkers."

"Clearly, she _did_ ," Donna retorted, sniffing. "Other you was fairly sure about it. What with the way you talked about her and all. Blimey, the look on your face."

"What do you mean by that?" His face had gone white. If Donna was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting… no. He didn't do that. He didn't _deserve_ that, not anymore. Not after he listened to all of their screams in his head as they burned.

Donna blinked for a moment. She didn't know much about time or whatnot, but she knew it probably wasn't a good idea for her to spill everything about his future. She'd watched enough films for that, anyhow.

"Anyways, the point is. If you left her, you might want to go back for her. Sure wish you'd done the same for me, but…" Donna sighed. She had finally found his sorry arse again, and it wasn't even the right one. "All of time and space out there. Sure anyone would want a taste of that." She paused. "Did you even tell her what this thing does?"

"Oi! Not a thing!" he defended his ship half-heartedly, but a new spark had flickered in his chest. Something… something he had forgotten, the first time around. "I never told her. The TARDIS, she travels in time."

"Oh, come _on_ , spaceman!" she snorted through disbelieving laughter. "You _are_ daft, aren't you? All of time and space at your disposal, you never once thought to tell her about the time travel bit?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, for the first time glinting with the smallest amount of hope.

"I've got a lot running 'round up here!" he replied gruffly, gesturing to his head. "You couldn't know the half of it- so what if I forgot to tell some ape the intricacies of my frankly wonderful time-space ship-"

"Oi, spaceman, I could handle ten times your big head!" the ginger sniffed. "Now, go on. You've got a blonde to get after."

"Oh, when you put it like that-" the Doctor huffed, turning around and striding to the other side of the console. "Anyways. Enough of that."

"Mind giving me a lift home? I'm a bit done with this place," Donna asked as she leaned against the railing. "Chiswick. London." A smile touched her lips. "Earth. The Solar System."

"My TARDIS isn't a bloody taxicab," the Time Lord responded halfheartedly. "But alright. Just this once, I suppose."

She grinned, walking around to look at the monitor.

"You know, I could use whatever outer space hangover cure you used on me, if you've got a couple extra doses…"

"Not gonna happen, ginger," he scoffed. "That kind of medicine, given to humanity hundreds of years in advance? I think the universe might just implode."

"Ah well, it was worth a shot," she sighed, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Listen, spaceman, you tell your future self that he'd better hurry up and come back to London. I won't be daft enough to turn down his offer next time."

"Right," he said, before he let out a strained chuckle, shaking his head. When Donna asked him what he was laughing at, he shut his eyes for a few seconds, before he flickered the blue orbs up to face her. "Just a bit mad. That I have a future."

"That you…" Donna's eyebrows furrowed. Her voice softened. "What're you on about, then?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. In time, Donna Noble," the last of the Time Lords spoke quietly. He glanced up at the monitor. "You're home."

Donna glanced over to the doors, before she looked back at him.

"Take care of yourself, alright, spaceman?" she said softly. "I don't want to have to pull your sorry arse out from under the Thames again."

"You what?" he asked, his eyes widening in mild surprise. "Never mind. Got enough memory to erase already."

Donna gave a short laugh, starting away from the console. "Bye then. Don't be a stranger, yeah? Or- future you, I suppose."

The Doctor gave a small half wave as he watched her exit the TARDIS, the event surreal to him. He had a future.

He dematerialized and set course for the Powell Estate. London. Earth. The Solar System.


End file.
